


take a run and hide yourself away

by ashintuku



Series: fox on the run [8]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Slavery, Past Slavery, Vague/Hinted PTSD, mentions of child death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 07:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11893125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashintuku/pseuds/ashintuku
Summary: “Shit.”“Yondu?”





	take a run and hide yourself away

“Hey Yondu?” 

Yondu looked over to see Quill standin’ next to his chair, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets and gaze steady on the ground. He grunted to show he had heard the boy, and Quill glanced up at him before lookin’ away again. 

“I was wonderin’... maybe when we do the next job, I could get a cut of the take?” 

Yondu chewed on the tip of his tongue, givin’ Quill a blank stare. Quill fidgeted. 

“It’s just – I mean. I’m thirteen now, I’m not just a little kid. I know how to shoot my quad blaster, and I’ve gotten pretty good at it! I hit the target more than I don’t. And I’ve gotten really good at stealin’ stuff? Like – like Tullk hadn’t even realized I’d stolen his rigged dice until he went lookin’ for it last week.” He looked up at Yondu, then. “And you’re always saying that I need to pull my weight before I get paid for the jobs, and I think I do pull my weight now, so... maybe?” 

Yondu snorted, leaning back in his seat. He picked his teeth, contemplating Quill thoughtfully. Quill took the silence as a negative answer, and kept talkin’. 

“I think it’s only fair, I mean – I know we’re basically space pirates, but there’s still a Code and all, I hear you talkin’ about it all the time, and Tullk said I should talk to you about getting paid for jobs. And I know I can’t fly a ship or anything, but sometimes we go down to nicer planets on shore leave and they have a lot of markets there, and I hate depending on someone else to get me stuff. Maybe I just want to buy something with my own money, right?” 

Yondu chewed on a nail, then, going over Quill’s arguments – they were sound enough, and he supposed to kid was right; he _was_ earnin’ his keep these days. 

“I’m just getting really tired of not getting paid for doing all this work, it makes me feel like a servant or a slave or something, and—”

Quill stopped talking, lookin’ at Yondu with wide eyes. The Centaurian sat in his seat, still as a stone, and Quill turned a little white as he realized what he’d said. 

“No, wait, Yondu—”

“Boy,” Yondu said, voice a soft rasp, and Quill’s teeth clicked, he shut his mouth so fast, “get out.” 

“But I didn’t—”

“ _Now_.” 

Quill left, the door clanging shut behind him; Yondu barely flinched. He glanced over to see Kraglin lookin’ at him warily, and sneered. 

“What’cha lookin’ at, Obfonteri?” 

“Nothin’, sir,” Kraglin said, quickly lookin’ away. “We still headed t’Knowhere?” 

“Change course,” Yondu said, standin’ up and rolling his bad shoulder. He paced down the steps, aggravation filling him, and he stared out the window with hard red eyes. “Heard reports on a Kree slave ship not three jumps out. Those ships always got valuables on ‘em – latest tech and the like. Think we should hit it. ‘Sides, it’ll give the boys somethin’ to shoot at.” Here, Yondu grinned, sharp and dangerous, and Kraglin shifted a little uncomfortably. “Crew’s been gettin’ antsy. We can’t have that, now, can we?” 

“No, Cap’n.” 

Yondu nodded, turning around and leavin’ the bridge without another word. He stopped by the door. 

“Make sure crew’s ready fer boardin’ when we get t’the ship, Kraglin. I don’t want no goddamn delays.” 

“Aye, Cap’n!” 

~+~

They found the ship with no problems, hittin’ it with a destabilizing missile to cut off communication with any other nearby Kree ships before approaching. The walkways punched into the sides of the ship, vacuum sealed to protect from the space around them, and the Ravagers boarded with battle cries. 

Yondu marched in, Kraglin and Quill with him. He sent Kraglin off with a nod, then, and turned to Quill. 

“Time to earn yer keep, boy.” 

Quill looked at him with wide eyes, clinging onto his blaster like a lifeline as he followed after Yondu as close as he could. They marched through hallways chaotic with fighting, ducking out of the way of blaster fire and flailing bodies. Yondu only whistled a few times, takin’ out those who had managed to escape their fights; Quill didn’t fire once, face as white as a sheet. 

They came up, then, to a monitor on the wall, and Yondu shoved the boy in front of it. 

“Hack that open, boy, would’je?” 

“I don’t—”

“Get movin’, boy, c’mon.” 

Quill huffed, and Yondu kept lookout while the terran boy struggled with the mechanics of the monitor. He made a noise of surprised triumph when it beeped and the door slid open with a slick _hiss_. 

“Get inside,” Yondu said, pushin’ at him. Quill went, stumbling only a little, and they marched down a quiet hall. Yondu cocked his head when he heard somethin’ up ahead, swearing to hisself before boltin’ down the hallway. Quill followed after him, footsteps quick and loud. 

Yondu punched a button on a door, watchin’ it slide open to see the slave pens, and swore. 

“Shit.” 

“Yondu?” 

Lookin’ down at the boy, he wondered if it was worth showing him what he had wanted to show him in the first place; but Quill was already pushing inside the room, turning to see what Yondu had seen. His pale face turned a little green, which Yondu didn’t think was all that natural and the Centaurian sighed through his teeth and walked in. 

“Must’a changed the protocol,” he said after a moment, walkin’ over to a cage and crouching in front of it. A little body lay inside, one hand stretched out towards the bars, and Yondu looked at it dispassionately. “Used t’be there were five minutes before the gas kicked in.” 

“...Yondu?” 

“This here’s a slave ship, Quill,” he said after a moment, lookin’ up at Quill. He was starin’ at the cage, still looking that unhealthy shade of green, and the aggravation that had filled him since Quill’s flippant remark started to fade away. “These here are actual slaves.” 

Quill shifted, starin’ at Yondu with wide eyes, before lookin’ back at the little body inside. From what Yondu could tell, she was a luphamoid child, barely six years old. 

“I know you don’t mean nothin’ by the things y’say,” he said after a moment, tappin’ his fingers against his knee. “I know yer bein’ dramatic, sayin’ things like ya feel like a slave. But see, the thing is, there’s real slaves out there in the galaxy – real kids, younger’n you, goin’ through hell. An’ t’just say things like that t’be dramatic? It’s goddamn bad manners.” 

“Yondu—”

“Ya gotta _think_ , boy, ‘fore you say somethin’ like that. Ya ain’t an absolute nimrod, y’know how to _think_.” 

He stood up, then, crackin’ his neck, and Quill shifted; stepping closer to Yondu. 

“...I didn’t mean it.” 

Yondu frowned, glarin’ down at the bodies around ‘em, before ruffling up Quill’s hair with a harsh scrub. He then pushed the boy back to the door, sighin’. 

“Yeah, son. I know.” 

~+~

Quill avoided Yondu for a few weeks after that. 

Yondu didn’t call him out on it; knew that the battle and the sight of all those cages filled with all those bodies had shaken the boy up almost as much as when he’d first been picked up. It hadn’t been Yondu’s brightest idea, bringin’ the boy onto the ship with them, but he’d wanted to prove a point. 

He supposed he proved it, but it didn’t feel like a good thing. 

(He knew Kraglin, Tullk and them had thoughts about how he’d handled the entire thing; knew they thought he’d let himself be shaken up about something that had happened so long ago that his reaction didn’t make any goddamn sense. And they were right, he guessed – it had been eight years since he’d been freed. Eight years with nothin’ to hold him back, but the minute a kid mentioned it like not bein’ paid was _comparable_ , somethin’ in him snapped. He wasn’t proud. He kept that to himself.) 

It was only after they’d done a few more jobs, stealin’ and minin’ minerals and robbing a couple of banks, that Quill came up to Yondu again. He was once more sitting in his chair on the bridge, readin’ over reports and thinkin’ about finding some planet to park for a few days of shore leave. Quill stepped up beside his seat, hands shoved deep in his pockets. 

“...Boy.” 

“Horuz is the worst person to tell you important things,” he said, staring out the observation windows. “He didn’t tell me about my bank account until like. An _hour_ ago. Apparently you’ve been paying me for a while.” 

“What’chu want me t’do ‘bout it, boy, smack some sense into ‘im?” 

“I don’t think that’s _possible_ ,” Quill said, quirkin’ a smile. Yondu snorted, and Quill shifted; lookin’ at him from the corner of his eye. “...Th—”

“Don’t say it, boy. Ya made a good point. Now git, I got shit t’do.” 

Quill rolled his eyes, turnin’ from him and walkin’ away. Yondu sighed and settled further into his seat; jumpin’ when Quill was suddenly back, shoving a little black kitty-cat with three green eyes into his hands before fleeing again. He looked at it, narrowing his eyes, before snorting and setting it on his console. 

“Obstinate little jackass.”

**Author's Note:**

> You know how when you're young and dramatic and prone to hyperbole? So you compare doing chores and the like to being treated like a servant or a slave because woe is you, life is suffering, why isn't anything fair ever? 
> 
> Now imagine saying that to a man who had probably only within the last decade been freed from slavery. He would _totally_ react well, right? 
> 
> N o p e. 
> 
> It isn't exactly what I'd planned for, but it's better than what I'd had.


End file.
